A Little Hope
by MoeUgly
Summary: A young girl has a hopeless crush on Tristan. Will he ever notice it? And if he does, what will he think?
1. Chapter 1

As long as she could remember, young Deirdre had been a complete fool over the knight named Tristan. Her cousin Vanora couldn't understand it at all, and often teased her about her infatuation. Tristan was hardly the most cuddly of men. Even the whores and loose women that threw themselves at Arthur and his knights tread carefully around Tristan. It was said that on the battlefield he was a swift and merciless killer.

But Diedre was still smitten. It started when she was the tender age of twelve. She had been outside the walls of the fortress that they all called home, playing amongst the huge oaks that lined the road, when she came upon an injured bird. Its wing was bent at an odd angle, and several of its feathers were missing. She had just pulled her wrap off of her head and was trying to think of a way to move it when Tristan had ridden by. Thinking back, she figured he had probably thought that she was the one who was hurt, and that was the only reason he had called out to her. After all, he hardly made a habit of consorting with little girls.

But nevertheless he had, and it had startled her when he suddenly loomed up in front of her and asked, "You all right?" She had shown him the little bird, which he told her was a sparrow, and had reset the poor thing's wing and wrapped it up for her. As he worked she had stared up at him, wondering about the tattoos that adorned his cheeks, and trying to see what color his eyes were. Then in what seemed like hardly any time at all, he had swung back up on his horse turned back briefly and given her a stern warning to feed it worms and crumbs, and continued on his way.

But that brief moment of kindness had set her young heart to beating faster and from that moment on he was the only man she would ever consider loving.

Now Diedre was sixteen and her little sparrow's wing was long mended and he had been sent on its way. But she was stilling pining over Tristan. Anytime he rode into the fort she was there, pretending to be working but really watching him out of the corner of her eye. Finally one day Vanora (who was older than Diedre and already had children) snapped that she was more than old enough to carry drinks in the tavern and moon at him from there.

"Oh, please don't say anything in front of him or the other knights," she pleaded. "Please Vanora! I'd just die. Really, I would."

Vanora sighed and shook her head, "You know I won't girl! But you know, you shouldn't be so smitten with him. There are plenty of other boys around here. Boys your age! And you're old enough to marry now."

Diedre rolled her eyes, "The boys around here are dull."

Vanora gave an annoyed humph and pushed several full mugs of beer to her. "Get on with it, Diedre."

And so Diedre became a fixture at the tavern. The other knights learned her name and some even flirted with her, but she brushed them off and was careful to be attentive to Tristan's needs. If his bowl was empty she made sure he got more, if he wanted apples she would pull out the best looking ones for him. But she could never bring herself to say anything other than the most cursory of words to him. Anytime she got near him her heart would pound and whatever clever thing she had thought of to say would slip her mind and she would blush and stammer.

"I'm sure he thinks I'm a dullard!" she moaned to Vanora one evening as they washed dishes. "I can't ever say _anything_. It all just dries up!"

"You're just shy. There's nothing wrong with that. Give it time. You're a pretty girl, maybe he'll talk to you."

"You really think so?" she asked, her voice full of hope.

"Well... There's always a chance." Vanora left out how Tristan never talked to any of the women, and only paid for whatever he wanted from them.

Diedre sighed glumly. "Yeah. I guess." But she really didn't think it would happen either.


	2. Chapter 2

Tristan stared forlornly at his favorite tunic, and the holes which had cropped up under both of the arms. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "Both arms."

"Problems Tristan?" Bors loomed up behind him and smirked at the irritated knight. "Need some new clothes?"

Tristan turned to glare at him, and jabbed a finger into Bors' bare arm, "Not all of us like to run around freezing our asses off."

Bors just grinned, "You need a drink, my friend. Come on, and bring your spoiled tunic with you. Vanora can fix it. Or Diedre, she's handy with a needle." He threw an arm around Tristan's shoulders and steered him in the direction of the tavern.

"Who?"

"You know, Vanora's cousin."

Tristan looked at him blankly. He had a hard enough time trying to remember which children were Bors and Vanora's without adding her extended family to the list. "I shall ask again... who?"

"The red-headed girl that passes out drinks."

Tristan nodded, "I didn't know she was Vanora's cousin."

"Well, she's a lot younger. Helps with the children a bit. Nice girl... makes a good stew."

* * *

Diedre righted one of the benches that had been knocked over in a scuffle sometime the previous evening and paused to catch her breath. It was surprisingly hard to work in a tavern. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't find herself lifting or moving something. 'Now, if only I could be thin and willowy like those Roman women,' she thought wistfully. Diedre was rather short and round, a fact that annoyed her daily. She often joked that she looked like she should have had eleven children, rather than Vanora.

Suddenly the door banged open and Bors came in, leading a slightly annoyed looking Tristan behind him. "Ah, Diedre, just the lass we were talking about!"

Diedre felt her stomach lurch, Tristan had been talking about _her_? "Oh? All good things I hope." She smiled, and prayed it didn't look forced.

Bors dropped down at one of the tables and glanced around, "Where's Vanora?"

Diedre waved a hand at the empty tavern, "Since noone's here she went home. I think your boys got into a mud fight or something."

"That sounds about right," Tristan muttered as he joined Bors at the table.

"Two ales," Bors said with a grin. "Oh, and do you think you could sew up Tristan's tunic?"

Diedre's stomach tightened again. A chance to get her hands on her beloved knights clothes? "I think I can manage that." She brought them their ales and Tristan reluctantly handed over his tunic. "Um, would you like me to wash it as well?" The garment was stained in several places and smelled quite a bit like a horse.

"I guess."

The doors opened again and Dagonet, Galahad, Gawain, and Lancelot all came in. After fixing them up with drinks she retreated to the far side of the room to sew up the tunic before washing it. _I am truly pathetic,_ she thought to herself. _Getting excited over fixing his smelly old shirt._ But still, she couldn't help smile to herself a little as she spent the rest of the afternoon quietly listening to the knights and threading her needle carefully.

Tristan found himself glancing over at the girl every now and then. There was something about her that he found familiar about her, but he couldn't quite place it. He watched as she bit off length of thread and folded her shirt over to do the other sleeve. _Eh,_ he thought. _It'll come to me eventually. She's pretty though._ As if on cue the girl glanced up at him and he smiled slightly and raised his mug to her.

Diedre felt like her face go hot as he acknowledged her. _He smiled at me! He really, really did!_ Suddenly a sharp pain in her finger reminded her of what she was doing, and she cursed as the needle slipped from her hand. A drop of blood welled up on her thumb and she absentmindedly began to suck on it as she searched for her lost needle. _Well, he might have noticed me a little, but I'm still a prime idiot,_ she thought ruefully.


End file.
